Cold As Hell
by LencestuousSlurry
Summary: Crappy title. Wow. Random DaveJohn, boyxboy, don't like don't read. Vampire Dave. Romance written by someone who doesn't know what romance is. Rating is for my awful language, may change in the future.
1. Bad Ideas

**Walking home from school today I suddenly had this weird urge to write some DaveJohn. I'm in love with pairing, it's so cute. And then, y'know, I _am_ a teenaged girl, and females of that specification have needs to write about vampires sometimes. Also, I really need to practice more first person.**

**After I finished my homework I remembered that I wanted to write this, so I did! Yay! I feel like I'll continue this pretty soon so watch for an update.**

**I do not own any characters used.**

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-Dave's P.O.V.-

"John?" Asleep. Fuck. I ran my shaking fingers through my hair out of habit. This was a bad idea, it had been from the start. I don't know why I thought I could handle having him so close to me for so long, so defenseless and just... adorable. I've had this burning feeling in the bottom of my gut since the first time I saw him, and it's only bearable in those rare instances where his hand brushes mine, or he's laughing at something I've said, or when our eyes meet and he looks away quickly like he's trying to hide something. His cheeks will glow that magnificent pink and all I can think of is hugging him or kissing him or stroking his head _fuck_. I have the hots for one of the dorkiest idiots alive. Of course, it would be a lot easier to confess that if I wasn't supposed to consider him food.

"He's human. Forget about him," Bro keeps saying that, but I know this is different. I may be a bloodsucker, but I can feel emotion and chemistry when they strike me. The strongest feelings I've ever had are for John. I had agreed to watch one of his shitty movies with him for his birthday, and he had ended up keeping me for hours with a marathon of garbage. Eventually, he had succumbed to the force tugging his eyelids closed, and lay knocked out cold on my lap. _On my fucking lap_. His arm dangled over the edge of the couch, his legs curled together on the cushions. His head rested on my thighs, I don't know how it ended up that way. All I knew was that I wasn't going to forget that moment for a good century or two.

Now, here we were again. He was sleeping right next to me, curled into a ball in a plush white quilt, the flickering lights of the television dancing on his pale cheeks and forehead. He was the vision of perfection, at least in my mind. I couldn't help but watch him, his slow, steady breaths and how he rolled around slightly, smiling as he slept. I hoped he was dreaming of me.

"John?" I asked again. I didn't really want to wake him, but if he was talking to me then it would be much easier to resist my instinct to plunge my teeth into his throat and drink him dry. I knew I should have eaten before coming, but there was always that hope in the back of my mind that he would discover my secret and willingly offer a little of his scarlet life. That would be pure bliss, John as the first live human I've drinken from. Bro keeps saying I'm not ready for that yet, that I should wait a few more years before I try and sink my teeth into somebody, but could it really be that hard? I doubt it.

Ignoring my stupid thoughts, I snatched the TV remote from John's side and clicked the appliance off, then shoved the nearly empty bowl of popcorn away from us. I still don't know why I agreed to sleep over at his house. Even I knew it was stupid. I could spend as much time with him as I wanted in the day, but night was when the horrible bloodlust kicked in. There was just such a risk that John could find out about my... Undeadness. He could freak out. I might have to kill him, and that wouldn't be good for anyone. Placing my dark shades to my side, I snuggled in under the soft covers we were sharing, making sure to face away from him and that our bodies didn't touch. Maybe if I pretended he wasn't there... _Shit_. The blanket smelled like him, it had been taken from his bed. I could feel his body heat radiating outwards, trumping my cold temperature and practically glowing all over me. _God fucking dammit_. This wasn't going to end well.

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-John's P.O.V.-

_Fucking freezing..._ I rolled over sleepily in the direction my best friend should have been. He seemed asleep, I didn't think he would mind if I just cuddled in a little closer. I know for a fact that Dave is pretty much head-over-heels for me, and it couldn't be cuter how embarrassed he is to ask me out on a real date. This is great, too, of course, I couldn't get enough of the feeling of our skin touching and rubbing as we sat together to watch movies, and I could feel his wanting eyes on my neck as I rolled over to sleep. He would probably be pleasantly surprised to find me hanging from his arm in the morning.

Still cold, I reached for his hand under the blanket, expecting a bit of warmth. To my surprise, though, the fingers I grasped were frozen, colder than ice. Like a corpse.

"John?" he sat up with a start, white cheeks slightly flushed, and slipped his hand from mine.

"God, Dave, you're freezing!" I frowned and scooted closer as he leaned against the armchair my dad liked.

"You scared me for a second..." he mumbled, ignoring my worried statement and picking up his shades from the ground. In the dark, I couldn't see his eyes anyway, so there was no point.

"Sorry. I got cold, but I guess you were kind of colder," I smiled softly, my teeth hanging over my lip.

"Yeah... I guess," he said, distracted.

"Maybe it would be more comfortable if we were closer?" I asked hopefully. He looked up at me, surprised but obviously tempted. I knew he wanted to, and I begged mentally for him to accept.

"Uh, I'm gonna go to the bathroom..." he stood without answering and hurried to the hallway, leaving me tangled in a quilt and sheets and my blue pajamas. There was something wrong with him tonight. He always acted oddly when it was dark.

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**I hope this wasn't too terrible. I wrote it in about an hour with a glitchy phone keyboard so please excuse any mistakes. Can I maybe get some reviews?**


	2. Death and Cool Ranch Doritos

**I accidentally posted this chapter a few minutes too early, sorry about that! I decided to take this in a bit of a different direction than I was originally planning, so I hope you like it!**

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-Dave's P.O.V.-

_I need to be way more careful..._ I cursed myself inwardly as I sleepily wandered down the familiar hallway, curling my toes in the carpet as I thought about all of the stupid decisions I'd made lately. First, there was agreeing to stay the night. Second, agreeing to sleep in the same bed as John. Third... Well, the third would probably come soon, I seemed to be on a roll.

I reached the bathroom pretty quickly, even though it was a bit hard to see in the dark. The door had a lock and I hurried to turn it as soon as I was inside, I needed a little bit of alone time. Maybe John wouldn't notice if I plugged my nose with tissue? Even if he didn't, I realized a second after my stupid idea, my breath smelled like death and cool ranch Doritos, and I know for a fact that is not an attractive scent. I might seem kind of ridiculous for worrying about that, but, hey, I have an image to upkeep.

Now thinking only about my breath, I reached self-consciously for the one of the two toothbrushes by the sink, snatching the bright blue one I was hoping belonged to my friend and not his father. I popped it into my mouth, tasting the still-toothpastey bristles and snapping open the mirrored medicine cabinet to rifle around for actual toothpaste.

"Dave, are you alright in there?" John seemed worried as he rapped lightly on the door, that kid has no clue what privacy is.

"John, do you know the definition of 'privacy'? I'd like some of that, if you don't mind," I retorted halfheartedly, sidetracked by my quest for a cleaning agent.

"Oh, right, sorry!" he chortled and I could hear him toddle back to the couch, his long blue pajama pants brushing on the carpet. He's so awkward sometimes that it's actually cute.

Who am I kidding? He's so awkwardly _adorable_ all of the damn time. It's like a disorder. A gawky-lovable-dork disorder. Those totally exist.

I snatched a tube of toothpaste, the only one I could find. It was that gross sugary cinnamon stuff, but it would have to do. Popping the cap, I turned it upside down and squeezed out a mouthful right onto my tongue. Don't judge, death is really hard to scrub out of your mouth, or really anything. You don't want to know how many rolls of deodorant I go through every month.

Both essential tools of tooth-brushing now in my mouth, I got to work, gripping the sink with one hand as I scrubbed every tooth as hard as I could without breaking them. My gums bled a little, but that was fine. I spread the nasty paste over the roof of my mouth and tongue, hoping I didn't leave the brush as mangled as my own. Finally, after maybe three or four minutes, the carbon dioxide coming out of my mouth smelled more like artificial flavoring than death. The smell would soon return, of course, even if I didn't eat anything. It was just kind of my natural scent, nasty as it was.

I can't help a lot of that gross stuff that comes along with the _totally glamorous _habit of drinking human blood. Twilight has it all wrong, okay? It's just plain disgusting. It isn't sexy or attractive. It doesn't even taste good, seriously! I'd rather eat human food, but I'd probably puke it out on the spot if I did. Actually, I wouldn't even care, honestly. Puke would be better than tasting nothing but that watery, rusty _shit_ for my entire life.

Enough whining about unchangeable facts, though. John was probably waiting out there for me, and I didn't want to keep him up all night. He needed sleep, possibly more than other people so that he had enough energy to avoid tripping over flat surfaces. I rinsed out his toothbrush, hoping he didn't notice the bent bristles.

Just as I was about to turn towards the door, the open window blew a draft in, swirling all of the less noticeable scents around. Something was very off. Like, really off, there was definitely another person in here. Before I could turn around to search, I felt a cold hand on my neck and a sudden, harsh pain in my forehead. I slumped to the floor, eyelids heavy as I felt my own frigid blood run under my shades and spotted a good patch of it on the sink.

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-John's P.O.V-

Dave always spends a long time in the bathroom, I don't know why. I think he might just be checking himself out in the mirror or taking shirtless selfies or something, I mean, what else would he be doing? I guess he could be brushing his hair or something, I don't want to think about how much time it takes him every morning to get it so _perfect_. There really isn't a better word for it, really! It's so smooth and soft, it's never frizzy, I could just stare at the back of his head all day and die happy. I sit behind him in math, so I'm probably one of the luckiest guys in the world. From what I've seen of his brother, his is the same way, though, maybe it's just genetic.

As I waited for Dave to return from his bathroom escapade, I popped a few stale pieces of microwave popcorn from the plastic bowl next to his side into my mouth. I pulled the blankets a little closer, the living room gets really cold at night and my dad left the heater off. I knew I should have grabbed my long sleeved pajamas for winter, but I had thought I would be fine in just an old t-shirt and long fleece pants. They're just so soft!

I heard the bathroom lock click and the door open, and I twisted my neck around to see a dark form.

"Dave?" no answer, odd. The black silhouette was moving pretty quickly, and I shoved the blankets off of myself to stand up, "Dave! You're scaring me!"

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**Again, sorry about posting too early. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I didn't think so many people would be interested in this! I'll try to get working on the next chapter right away, so just keep on reviewing? Please?**


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